


Rude Awakening

by Fenris



Series: Radio and Literature [4]
Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-05
Updated: 2010-07-05
Packaged: 2017-10-10 09:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenris/pseuds/Fenris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natalie does some math and ponders some hard facts. Takes place about a month after Affinity for Heights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rude Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the charity fanzine "A Taste of Forever", in 1999. The zine has long been out of print, so at this point I figure it's OK to publish this story online.
> 
> Takes place a month after the events of Affinity for Heights

Natalie hid her face in her hands, the picture of mortal embarrassment. Grace grinned and took her elbow, leading her away from the theatre entrance. As they walked down the street Nat spoke, voice muffled by her hands,

"I can't believe I let you drag me to see Tank Girl. I just hope nobody who knows me saw us."

Completely unimpressed, Grace laughed and said,

"Aw, lighten up, will you? Wasn't it fun to see the girl in charge for once?"

"I don't know. I don't know if our friendship can survive this." Natalie took her hands away from her face and tried to glare at the other woman, but lost it and grinned instead. "Well, I suppose you're right, if you can overlook the fact that she's banging a mutant kangaroo. Oh, Malcolm McDowall must have been _so_ broke."

"Come on, I bet that movie was a lot of fun to make. Hey, it makes you look at Cole Porter in a whole new way, doesn't it?"

The two friends strolled amiably along the sidewalk and turned down the little side-street where Grace's little run-down station wagon was parked. As they walked, they got down to the serious business of selecting an apres-film snack and coffee stop.

They reached the car and got in, still debating. Grace was extolling the virtues of a certain twenty-four-hour breakfast café down on Yonge St, when she paused and pointed across the street at a small shop-front still that was lit, despite the late hour.

"Hey, isn't that Nick's Caddy parked in front of that shop? Yeah, it is! Nat, look! There's Nick, he's inside that art store." She turned to Natalie and grinned. "Maybe he's buying a nice sunflower print to brighten up that big black hole he lives in. Come on, let's go in and say hi."

Natalie looked through the broad glass window into the gallery. Nick was leaning casually across a counter top, smiling and talking to the man behind the counter. She smiled and opened her mouth to say 'Sure', then stopped cold. Her hand shot out and caught Grace by the arm.

"No, wait. Let's not bother him."

Grace, already halfway out of the car, turned and looked at her. Her expression was curious and a bit irritated.

"Nat, why _not_?" She looked carefully into Natalie's tense face. "Come on, aren't you being a little silly? I thought you were both doing okay, you know, with each other--am I wrong? Ow! Quit pinching me, okay, okay!" Grace slid back into the car, giving her friend a reproachful look and rubbing her arm. "Geez, honey, chill. You hauling the bodies around by yourself now, or what? That's one strong hand you've got there, girlfriend."

Natalie shook her head, watching the figure she had spotted standing just beyond Nick, toward the rear of the gallery. The man's back was to them but there was no mistaking the height and stance, the long black coat and that short-cut bristling pale hair. LaCroix. Damn it. Natalie had no yen whatsoever to get into a conversation with Nick's master. And she did not want Grace becoming acquainted with him---or more importantly, him becoming acquainted with Grace.

"Grace, come on, I just don't _feel_ like it, okay? Let's go."

Grace looked at her and shook her head; then closed the door quietly and shrugged.

"All right, we don't have to...but you're being kind of childish about this, Nat. I'm sorry, but you are. I know you're kind of fed up with him, but what's the big deal, you see him almost every day--well, night--at work, don't you? I just thought we could say hello, I haven't had a chance to talk to him for a couple of weeks."

The coroner remained silent, watching Nick through the window and ignoring her friend's diatribe. Grace sighed. "All right, Natty, you win. Let's blow this joint and go get some food. So, have you decided where---hey, who's that with Nick?"

Natalie slid down in her seat as Nick exited the shop, LaCroix walking close behind him. The two men reached the Caddy and stopped, Nick's hand on the driver's door. LaCroix placed his hand on Nick's shoulder, moving it up to rest at the base of his neck, then leaned in to say something directly into his ear. She watched, fascinated by this serendipitous opportunity to see Nick interact with his sire sans audience.

Nick's hand shot up and grabbed the other man's hand, removing it abruptly. Keeping his grip on his master's hand, he wheeled to face LaCroix, his expression grim, eyes fixed firmly on his sire's face. Nat nodded inwardly, not wanting to admit to herself just how relieved she was to see Nick abruptly snatch LaCroix' hand away from his shoulder like that, rejecting his vampiric father's overly familiar gesture.

Then, Nick's mercurial grin flashed across his face. Turning LaCroix' hand in his grasp he inclined his head, pressing his mouth to the other man's palm. Nat stopped breathing for a moment, astonishment turning rapidly into disbelief, then cold realization as she watched LaCroix smile indulgently at Nick.

****

Thoroughly intrigued, Grace watched the tall man with the white-blond military-looking haircut dip his head and murmur into Nick's ear, his hand on Nick's shoulder. She frowned and turned to look at Natalie, intending to ask her again who the weird-looking guy with Nick was. The words stuck in Grace's throat when she saw the fierce intensity in her friend's eyes as she stared past Grace. Without speaking, Grace turned back to the two men, just in time to watch Nick smile and drop a kiss into the palm of the other man's hand, looking up at him with obvious warmth as he did.

"Oh, you're shitting me," she muttered in astonishment. But there it was, right in front of her wondering eyes--Nick Knight, resident precinct stud-muffin, kissing another man's hand and gazing affectionately into his face.

Her amazement grew as she watched the taller man gently remove his hand from Nick's grasp, pausing to brush his pale fingertips across Nick's lips before dropping the hand back down to his side.

Spellbound by this sudden revelation concerning Detective Knight's private life, Grace sat still for a few more moments. Then, she remembered where she was and who she was watching--and, most importantly, who was sitting next to her. Grace felt herself flush, and turned to look at her friend.

Natalie was watching the two men with a peculiar, emotionless intensity, like an anthropologist observing a particularly interesting tribal ritual. The expression on her face gave Grace a cold, slightly ill sensation deep in her chest. Unwilling to look at the other woman's tight features any more, she turned her attention back to Nick and his companion who were now conversing quietly, still standing very close to each other.

Bright light flooded the dark, quiet street: headlights, signaling the approach of a car. As the light touched them, the two men moved apart. Nick glanced over his companion's shoulder back through the glass into the shop. The proprietor, who had been watching them, turned away and became intensely interested in polishing the top of his display case with his sleeve.

A trick of the streetlight overhead made Nick's eyes seem to glow with an eerie yellow light for a moment as Grace watched him turn and get into the car. His tall companion walked around to the other side and got in. Grace noted that he moved with the same smooth assurance that Nick always did.

The Caddy started up and its lights came on. Grace woke up and slid down in her seat, just as Natalie grabbed her forearm and hissed, "Get down, don't let them see you."

The two women heard the powerful engine rumble by them, and they slowly rose back up, watching the taillights recede down the street. Grace looked at Natalie, wanting more than anything in the world to just rewind the last five minutes and have them drive away before she had to see Nick's parked car and open her big mouth.

"Aw, Nat. Honey, I'm sorry. I didn't know." She looked carefully into her friend's face. "You didn't know either, did you?"

Natalie took a deep breath, visibly reining her emotions in. A tight half-smile emerged on her face and she shook her head, not quite looking her friend in the eyes.

"No. No, I didn't, but I had some suspicions----I knew _something_ was up with Nick. He's been avoiding seeing me outside of work ever since he got back from that stupid camping trip he went on. Now I know why. He's been busy." She snorted a humorless laugh. "At least I know it's not another woman."

Hesitantly, Grace asked, "Have you ever seen that guy before?"

Natalie nodded. Bitterness crept into her voice as she said tersely,"Yes, I've seen him before. He's an old friend of Nick's. They go...way back together." Her lips pressed firmly together into a thin line and her eyes narrowed, thinking about several incidents over the last few months when she'd shown up at Nick's loft to find Nick absent but LaCroix there, loafing about and looking very much at home. Each time, the old vampire had mildly shrugged at her queries, given vague not-quite-answers about Nick's whereabouts, then politely showed her to the door--not quite managing to conceal his pleasure as he did.

Those incidents made much more sense to her now. _Nick was probably hiding upstairs waiting for me to leave, each time--_, she thought. Nat knew that she really had nothing rational to base that supposition on, but the first bitter threads of anger and betrayal uncoiled in her gut as she thought about it.

Grace started the car, left it in park and looked into her friend's pale face. "Hey. Nat, I don't really feel like getting coffee anymore. Let's go back to my place and just sit and talk a little, okay?"

Natalie shook her head and whispered. "No. Maybe I--no, I think you should just drop me back home, Grace."

The other woman shook her head vehemently at the suggestion. "No. No way am I letting you go home and sit by yourself on the couch with Sydney and a bucket of Haagen-Daaz. We're going back to my place and sit on the couch with a bottle of vodka and two buckets of Haagen-Daaz."

Once back at Grace's apartment, they proceeded to do just that. They sat on the couch, ate too much French vanilla ice cream, got drunk and ended up reviewing the specific men in their lives who had screwed them over in one way or another, beginning with junior high school and working their way up to the present.

Grace understood that there was really nothing she could say that would make her friend feel less shitty about discovering that Nick wasn't going to fit into Natalie's life the way she'd obviously thought he would. She also knew from experience, that at times like this it was simply the sound of a friendly voice and another person's presence that was important. So, she sat and listened to her friend, agreeing when it seemed best, gently contradicting when it seemed needed. Natalie finally ran down and sat still, quietly staring into her glass.

After a moment, Grace put down the half-finished pint carton of ice cream, leaned forward and gently touched her friend's arm. "Nat, I need to say a couple of things to you. You might tell me to shut my mouth and mind my own business after I'm done, and if you do, I'll try real hard not to take it personal. You don't have to take my advice, just please listen to what I see happening here. Okay?"

Natalie looked at her for a long, calculating moment, saying nothing, her eyes unreadable. Grace was just about to admit defeat, and head into the kitchen to make coffee when Nat nodded minutely and murmured, "Okay. I'm listening."

Grace breathed a silent thank you, and spoke in a low, intent voice. "I've known you for about eight years now, and I think I know you, well, kind of...pretty well." She fell silent for a moment, obviously searching for the right way to put her next statement.

"I don't know exactly what the problem is with Nick. I know there's a problem there, I _know_ that you haven't told me everything about it, and for some reason you feel like you can't. And whatever it is, it's serious enough to make both of you think, deep down, that you being with him is bad for you. And I have no idea what's going on between him and that tall dude with the peroxide buzz cut, but it looked pretty serious to me."

As she said the last, Grace saw Nat's eyes tear up a bit, and she almost lost her nerve to say anything more. But she was determined to get the entire speech out, and she pressed on. "Nat, I have seen you change a _lot_ over the last few years, and I've been scared for you. Five years ago you would have gotten out of the car, walked over and kicked Nick right in the jimmies, then let his big old butch boyfriend cart his useless ass home."

The image of herself doing just that took Nat by surprise, and she laughed in spite of herself. Grace nodded her approval, and continued.

"I know what it's like to think that you can help someone change themselves into something better, but...honey, that doesn't happen in real life, we both know that. And I also know that I haven't seen you be happy, _really_ happy, in a long time. Just like I haven't seen you, well, just doing---normal things, goofing off, having _fun_." She paused a moment, drew a deep breath and continued.

"What I think you need right now is some time. Time away from Toronto and especially away from Nick Knight. You know, I would love to talk you into doing a little road trip with me--maybe over the border into the States or over to Quebec, just for a few days. I really think you need it."

Sinking back into the soft cushions, Grace studied the melting remnants of ice cream in the warming cardboard container she was still holding. "Don't get me wrong, I like Nick. I really do. He's a great cop, he really cares about people, you know? I'm sure about that. I think he's got a good heart. And it sure as hell doesn't hurt that he's one of the best-looking men in Toronto, with a hiney that can stop traffic."

Natalie, who'd been staring at the carpet looked up at that, her expression caught between anger and startled amusement. As the two women looked into each other's faces, amusement gained the upper hand and they started laughing.

Grace snorted, and said, "Oh, girl, I was so jealous a couple of years ago when he first started hanging around you, you don't _know_. But no matter how pretty a package he is, he can't be worth this." She sobered a bit and laid her hand over Nat's. "Look, you don't have to answer me now, you just think about taking a couple of days off with me, okay? Little road trip for the girls."

Nat sighed, and put her glass and the soggy pint carton down on the coffee table. "I'll think about it, all right? Oh, my God, look at what time it is. I need to get to bed." She gave the other woman a warm hug before standing up. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Night, Natty." Grace watched her friend disappear into the spare bedroom, sighed, and began clearing the mess off the coffee table.

****

After shucking her clothes and pulling on an oversized sleep-shirt Grace had loaned her, Natalie frowned as she crawled into bed. She was desperately tired and her head ached abominably, but she was nowhere near sleep just yet.

The picture of Nick looking up into LaCroix' face with warmth and affection just wouldn't stop running through her mind, repeating itself in a vicious movie loop. Nick, looking up lovingly at the man who had been with him, in one way or another, for eight centuries. Eight _hundred_ years. God.

_How do I get my mind around that? To me, the seventeen years between high school and now seems like a huge gap. To Nick that's like what, a week?_

She bit her lip, for the first time really thinking about how much time had passed for Nick since LaCroix had taken away his humanity and turned him into what he was now. Eight hundred years.

_In fifty years, I'll be like a dried prom corsage in his 800-year scrapbook--a memory. A precious memory, maybe, but how much company do I have in that scrapbook? How could I have ever hoped to really figure out what was going on in his head?_

A little voice inside her began to speak, a voice she generally had no trouble shutting up when it concerned Nick, but this time she let it talk.

"Ok, Natalie. Let's play a game", she murmured very softly. "It's called Body Count. And..." she reached down beside the bed to retrieve her purse and dug into it, searching, "I think that we will need a calculator for this game."

She retrieved her little hand-held calculator, a small notepad and a pencil from the purse, pretending not to notice the tremor in her hand as she did. _Settle down, Natalie. Nick's not here to watch you and feel guilty---and even if he were, to be honest, I think I'd like him to feel a little guilty about something right now._

"So. How many people _has_ Detective Knight killed during his career? Never let myself think about that one too much. Let's see."

She started tapping numbers into the calculator. A different part of her mind was shrilly demanding to know what she thought she was doing here, how she thought this was possibly going to make her feel _any_ better, and had she completely lost her mind?---but she kept going anyway.

"Ok, now, Nick's been a vampire about oh, roughly seven hundred and seventy years. I think he stopped killing for food, what, about a hundred years ago---and was trying to cut down for a while before that...so, let's give him, say, five hundred years where he was killing regularly for food. Okay.

Now, how many people per week? I know he has to have blood pretty much every day or he starts getting hungry...so in ideal conditions, it would be one a night. However, we can't assume he killed somebody every night...there must have been some times when he didn't, for whatever reasons..."

She let out the breath she'd been holding and ran a hand distractedly through her hair, pushing her bangs up off of her face.

"Hmmm. And...figure in some other factors too, like bad hunting conditions, no people available, he just felt like staying in, reading a book and drinking bottled--did they have bottled then? Probably not, not bottled that would keep, really. Ok, sometimes he just felt like staying in and going hungry for a night. Let's say that on the average, he killed four times a week during the years he was doing it steadily. Now, there are fifty-two weeks in the year, at an average of four a week--that would make it two-hundred and eight people a year. Let's round down to 200 even and give him the benefit of the doubt on those eight."

She was starting to get that cold, detached feeling that she got when she had a particularly gruesome or repulsive autopsy to perform and she distanced herself mentally to get herself through it.

"Now, five hundred years, at two hundred people per year, that makes Nick's body count come out to..." She paused, staring at the calculator. _Oh no, that can't be right,_ she thought, knowing that it was. _I must have put in an extra digit. Let's do that again._

She tapped in the numbers again and stared blankly at the results.

100,000.

A hundred thousand people. _After_ she had given him the benefit of the doubt at every step of her calculations. Which meant the real number was probably higher. She wrote the number down on the notepad and stared at it.

_I fell in love with a man who has killed a hundred thousand people or more._

She knew all along, of course, that Nick had been responsible for a lot of deaths down through the years, and had told herself that it didn't matter. Those people had died a long time ago and Nick had changed, had renounced killing, wanted to atone for everything. But to actually think about the number...to visualize what a hundred thousand people would look like, standing together...just how _did_ you atone for killing that many people?

_I wonder if that's what Nick's afraid he's going to see when he dies. A hundred thousand faces or more, patiently waiting for him. God._

_Oh but wait, there's more!_ She continued following the distressing train of thought. It was like worrying at a sore tooth; it hurt, but once you started, you couldn't leave it alone. _There's the other half of this little partnership. Let's not even concern ourselves about Janette right now, she's not around anymore--but let's just take a look at Nick's daddy..._

Face grim, she repeated the process, using two thousand years this time instead of five hundred. She knew LaCroix wasn't quite two thousand, but then again, she could imagine him killing more than once in a night during the good old days. And he'd probably had a much higher kills-per-week percentage than Nick, so she was actually being kind in that wise.

The little numbers blinked up at her in the dim light. Four hundred thousand. She wrote the number down underneath the first one on the notepad, then carefully drew a line under the second number and added the two together. Then she tore off the piece of paper and looked at it in silence for a minute.

Drawing in a deep breath, she gently closed the calculator and placed it carefully back in her purse. Then she settled back on the bed and folded her hands neatly over her stomach, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular.

_Let's get this straight, Nat,_ she thought. _Between the both of them, those two men you saw standing there all chummy outside that art store tonight have killed at least half a million people. Jesus Christ._

Natalie lay motionless and silent on the bed for a very long time. After a while, she stirred, reached out and picked up the torn-off notepad page. She folded up the piece of paper, folding and refolding it until it was almost a little cube. Then she got up, walked to the bathroom and flushed it down the toilet.

Holding herself very carefully, she padded back into the guest bedroom. She got back into bed, switched the bedside lamp off and burrowed down into the sheets.

_They really can't be human anymore, can they?_ she thought, hugging the cool soft mass of the pillow to her face, suddenly feeling very lost. _But Nick is so good, so kind--he really cares for people, I've seen it. And even though I think LaCroix's a manipulative, abusive, sadistic bastard who's made Nick's life sheer hell...(didn't look too miserable tonight though, did he?)...I know from what Nick's told me that he's not a complete monster. So, what are they, really?_

 

_"What are you?"_

She had said that one night in the morgue when she'd watched a dead man get up off an autopsy table and look at her with the eyes and teeth of a predatory cat. And after she blurted out the fearful question, he'd turned those unearthly eyes full upon her and replied honestly.

"Something very different than you."

_He told me the truth back then, right at the beginning. I should have paid more attention to what you said that night, Nick._

Her head was starting to ache viciously. _Shit. I need to try and get some sleep._ It was going to be business as usual tomorrow and she needed to act normally around Nick until she could figure out what she wanted to do, how she wanted to approach him about what was going on between him and LaCroix. Or if she even wanted to approach him about what was going on between him and LaCroix.

Natalie buried her face in the bedding, inhaling the cool, clean scent of freshly laundered sheets, and did her best to fall asleep.

****

The next week was surprisingly easy for Natalie to get through. She kept her contact with Nick to a casual, professional level, and he never even seemed to question it. Actually, the rather insulting truth be told, he never even seemed to notice it.

She was sitting in the morgue at twenty minutes to midnight, gnawing half-heartedly at a cooling chicken wing from the Golden Lotus takeout when the phone rang. Hastily wiping grease off her hands, she grabbed for the receiver.

"Morgue. Lambert speaking."

It was Nick, sounding a bit breathless and excited. "Natalie? Great, I was hoping I would catch you there. I need to ask you a favor."

"Oh, really?" She smiled sweetly at the half-eaten chicken wing in her free hand, and took a dainty nibble from it.

Enough time had passed since she and Grace had spotted Nick and his sire outside the art gallery for her to have moved from initial shock and hurt to anger. _This could be good_, she thought, preparing to do battle. Nick hesitated before he continued, evidently thrown a bit by the tone of her voice.

"Uh, yeah...um, I wanted to ask you if you could bring me the files on the Juarez and Frances test results. I think I have a major break coming up in the case, and I really, really need the paperwork from those results to file with my warrant request tonight."

Nat frowned. Damn, it was police business. She couldn't just laugh in his face and hang up. This time, anyway. _Oh, of course. God forbid he should want to take me out anywhere, what was I thinking?_ Irritably, she snapped, "Well, come down here and get them yourself! You do realize that I'm on duty, don't you?"

He waited several seconds before replying. "Nat, I'm sorry, I really am. I'm waiting for an informant and I don't dare leave the club in case he shows up and spooks off when he doesn't see me here. Could someone cover for you, just for a half hour? Please? It won't take long."

"Ohhh..._I am such a sucker_... All right. I want to see that case closed too. You just make damn sure you get this guy." Then it hit her. "Wait a minute--the club. Where are you meeting this guy?" She knew the answer before the question left her mouth. At what other nightclub in Toronto would Nick arrange to meet an informant but--

"The Raven, Nat. That's not a problem, is it? Don't worry, the regulars know enough to leave you alone now, and I'll be here, I'm not going anywhere."

"Yeah--yes, okay! I'll be there, relax. Give me a half hour."

"Thanks, Nat. You're an angel."

"Yeah." She hung up the phone and muttered, "Whatever."

****

The expected surge of music did not assault her ears as she opened the door and walked into the club. Colored lights reflected tiny sparks off the hanging curtains of heavy chain. Natalie wondered idly how many people got hurt walking into those, or swinging into them while dancing. Nick was sitting on a barstool, elbows leaning on the bar, engaged in conversation with LaCroix. The elder vampire was perched casually on the outer edge of the long bartop and looking very much at ease. Janette's old bartender, Miklos, was behind the bar polishing a wineglass. Except for the three vampires, the club was deserted. Nat looked at her watch, surprised.

"Hey! What's wrong? Isn't this place usually packed around midnight?"

Miklos looked up at her and smiled. Natalie had only met him once or twice, back when Janette had owned the club, but he'd always seemed to like her and she smiled back at him warmly.

"Doctor Lambert! Welcome, come in. I closed the club early tonight, we need to run an inventory. Boring, but necessary. Can I get you anything to drink? Alcoholic or non?"

Nat smiled at the dark, intense-looking bartender, surprised that he remembered her. "Hi, Miklos. Thank you, I'll have a Ciderjack, please.

"That's a drink for wimps and pretentious college students, you know", Nick grinned at her as she approached.

Fighting down the sudden urge to punch him in the face, she wrinkled her nose at him instead, pleased with how casual she sounded. "Or for people who actually like it, _detective_. Now be quiet or I'll order a Zima just so you have to be seen sitting with me while I drink it. So, what happened to your informant?"

Nick ignored the question and sat down at one of the small tables, looking around and not even acknowledging that she'd spoken. Nat shrugged and turned her back on him, heading toward the bar to order her drink.

As she approached the bar she realized that the real cause of all her troubles was still sitting on the edge of the bar, looking, as usual, as if he owned the world. He'd fallen silent when she came in, and was watching her approach, a slightly bored expression on his face. A bit hesitantly, she nodded a greeting toward Nick's sire.

"LaCroix."

Cool silvery blue eyes held hers for a moment, and LaCroix inclined his head slightly. "Good evening, Doctor. It's a pleasure to see you again."

_Yeah, right. Asshole._ she thought as she changed her mind about waiting for her drink at the bar. Instead, she turned and walked back to the table where Nick was sitting. LaCroix smirked and slid down off the bar on the other side, joining Miklos. He said something quietly to the dark-haired vampire. Miklos looked at him, then at the couple at the table, and shrugged.

Nat quelled an instant of unease, speculating that she might have been the subject of LaCroix' conversation---then pushed the thought away. Whatever the old spider might have on his mind to do to her someday, it wasn't going to happen while Nick was sitting directly across the table from her. Nick tapped the back of her hand and grinned at her.

"Hey, Nat. You in there? If you're hungry, I can send out for something."

She shook her head. "No thanks, I'll stick with the Ciderjack, I already ate. Some people do eat before midnight, you know." He raised an eyebrow and settled back in his chair, obviously a little mystified at her cool attitude.

"OK. Did you bring the results with you?"

"Sure did. Just a second." She got up and went to the bar, where Miklos had just put a glass of light brown apple-scented liquor down for her. Nat picked it up and took a sip, enjoying the light burn as she swallowed. Leaning her elbows on the bar, she opened her briefcase and took a folder out, along with a notebook. She paged through the folder, frowning, and looked back at Nick.

"OK, here's what we have. There were three shipments of the medicine sent through the pharmaceutical company warehouse in Michigan, two of which ended up here. So, the contaminated specimens must have been in one of those two shipments. Now the test results on Juarez' tissue samples indicated that..."

Natalie looked up, suddenly aware of being watched, and jumped. LaCroix was standing behind the bar, only a few feet away, looking at her. The folder dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers as she met his gaze and felt a wave of ice travel down her back. Her heart started to hammer.

The old vampire was staring at her intently, his head cocked to one side. His pale eyes were yellow and gleaming, and his full lips curved in a smile that revealed the tips of lengthening sharp eyeteeth. There was feral amusement in the predatory gaze, and not a hint of recognition.

Natalie backed away, stunned, her mind not quite able to process the new information that her eyes were sending it. She bumped into a table and stumbled, almost falling backwards across it. Numbly, she regained her balance and continued to back away. Unable to take her eyes off the transformed man, she stammered, voice rising.

"N-Nick? Oh, Nick! Something's _happening_ here, Nick!"

LaCroix grinned at her good-naturedly, his gaze almost affectionate. Placing one hand on the polished bartop, he vaulted effortlessly over the bar, leather coat flying out behind him. He landed kitten-light on the floor and drifted toward her, smiling, never taking his eyes from hers.

Natalie heard a chair fall over behind her, and felt sick with relief as she turned to look and saw Nick advance with fangs flashing, his own eyes yellow. He stepped between Natalie and his advancing master, who stopped and regarded Nick coolly. The hue of the old vampire's eyes shaded from pale champagne to a darker gold as he watched Nick advance on him. Then Natalie felt the floor drop out from under her when she realized that Nick was smiling at LaCroix.

Nick paced smoothly up to his master, almost gliding, sulfurous eyes gleaming. His lips were parted slightly, displaying the tips of his fangs. As he reached LaCroix, he stopped and glanced back at her, still smiling. Then he turned, nudged lightly against the elder vampire and rubbed his face against the black-clad shoulder, nuzzling into it for a moment. Natalie heard him make a deep, soft growl, almost a purr. LaCroix looked down and dipped his head to brush his cheek against Nick's hair momentarily. They exchanged affectionate looks, then turned as one to look at Natalie.

Nick regarded her, smiling, a flat gleeful shine in his eyes. There was no rationality or recognition that she could see, just a bright, hungry gaze. They fanned out, one to either side of her, and began a leisurely advance.

Her panicked, disbelieving eyes darted from one to the other as they closed in on her. LaCroix licked his lips and swallowed, eyes bright and eager. When she looked at Nick again, he was swallowing too, his lips moist. With a surge of horror, she realized they were salivating.

_Well, Natalie, you have two attractive men literally drooling over you. Isn't that wonderful? I'd like to wake up now, God._ The words tumbled senselessly through her head as she backed away, nauseous, trying to figure out how this had so quickly turned into a nightmare.

Adrenaline making it easy, she picked up a wooden chair and threw it at Nick, shouting, "Nick! Wake up! NICK!"

He batted the chair aside like a wad of paper and snarled at her, making a short lunge in her direction. Pleased triumph lit his face as she gasped in terror and darted away from him, only to nearly run straight into LaCroix who hissed at her, his face a demonic mask, and grabbed for her.

His hands closed on empty air as she dropped and scrambled under a table, trying to orient herself and remember which way the exit was. She heard a low chuckle and sickly realized that LaCroix had deliberately missed. Her frantic gaze combed through the forest of tables and chair legs, seeking for some hint of Nick's location. She couldn't find him, but she could see the lower half of LaCroix' legs as the elder vampire threaded his way leisurely after her, taking his time.

A loud bang on the table directly over Natalie's head startled a scream from her. The table rocked, spilling glasses and an ashtray to the floor where they shattered, peppering her with tiny slivers of glass.

Nick hopped down from the table and sank into a crouch, peering under the white tablecloth. He looked at her, chuckling. In the dim light underneath the table his tawny eyes shone like lamps, giving his face a nightmarish cast. Nick's low feral laughter followed her as she scrambled away on her hands and knees.

_They're playing with their food_, she realized.

They maneuvered her around the room, making little dashes and feints, herding her gradually from one side to the other, then back again. Always the glittering yellow shine in the predator eyes as they watched her move, both of them vibrant with eagerness and excitement.

Somehow, on some instinctive level, Natalie knew that if she started screaming or made a run for the door, their stalk would be over and she'd be dead within seconds. The scientific portion of her mind chimed in with the observation that a high adrenaline level in a victim's blood was probably somehow preferable. Her own adrenaline level was certainly shooting through the roof as she wove her way through the scattered tables and overturned chairs, trying desperately to keep barriers between herself and her two prowling, smiling stalkers.

She couldn't help letting out a sharp cry as LaCroix reached out during a particularly close pass and snagged her by one sleeve, tearing a strip of material from it. As she darted away from him, he smiled, shook the tatter of blue cotton off his sharp nails and continued his stalk.

_My God, is this what they used to be like when they hunted together? No wonder Nick would never talk to me about it._

Nick suddenly stopped and stretched exaggeratedly, shooting a playful look over to his sire, who halted in mid-stalk, switching his intense stare from Nat to his protege. LaCroix made a low rumbling noise in his throat and swerved away from her to pass close by Nick.

They moved with dreamy slowness as the elder vampire reached his son and they circled each other, Nick's jacket brushing lightly across LaCroix' leather coat in an elegant, gliding caress, his hands following the same path. Their fluid grace was mesmerizing, as was the warmth in the glittering citrine eyes as they lovingly brushed their faces together, each nuzzling the other for a brief moment before turning back to their game. _Jesus, they're beautiful_, she thought, _and they're going to kill me._

As that thought sank in, she came out of her momentary paralysis. _They're both way over there--I'm over near the door---what are you waiting for, Christmas? Go, stupid!_ Natalie fled, pressing every ounce of speed she could out of her tired body.

Miklos inadvertently saved her. As she ran for the door, Nick and LaCroix began a smooth, swift rush designed to bring her down neatly just as she reached the outer door and possible safety. But as they closed in, Miklos appeared out of nowhere, right in front of her. Eyes blazing, teeth ready, he grabbed at her arm. She shrieked and dodged back. Miklos growled and crouched, ready to lunge. Then he went down under the combined weight of a furious Nick and LaCroix.

Roaring, they bore Miklos down to the sawdust-strewn floor, enraged at this unexpected spoiling of their artful stalk, and at the sheer temerity of the intruding vampire. LaCroix and Nick pinned the other vampire to the floor, raging down at the dark-haired interloper. Miklos snarled up into their faces for a moment, then averted his head and froze, looking away from the two hissing menaces kneeling on his chest and stomach.

Terrible, snarling growls rose from the entangled vampires, and Natalie found the inner switch that turned her legs back on. She lunged for the stairs, stumbling and barking her shin hard enough to see sparks. Then she was scrambling up the concrete stairs, reaching for the door, positive that any second she would feel clawed hands snagging into her clothing, her hair, her flesh, pulling her back into the Raven. But that didn't happen, and she burst out of the club and into the cool night air.

She looked frantically up and down the street. There was no traffic, no pedestrians, the street seemed deserted. Disbelief struggled with despair for the upper hand as she realized that there was no immediate help for her out here.

Muffled snarls reached her ears from behind the heavy metal doors of the Raven and she ran. Just possibly, she might have a chance if the three vampires got caught up in fighting, although she knew Miklos couldn't last long against Nick and his master combined. If she could just reach her car, or somewhere where there were other people...

Her steps echoed up and down the long street as she ran, trying to remember if there was another bar close by, or a convenience store-anything that might have people in it.

LaCroix landed in front of her and she ran right into him. The body under the leather overcoat felt like marble; hard, unyielding and hideously strong. Grinning, he snatched her up and looked gleefully into her terrified eyes, then tossed her to Nick, as easily as she would have tossed Sydney one of his catnip mice.

Iron-hard hands caught her upper arms and held her tight. She screamed as she was yanked off her feet and carried into an alley. Nick shook her once, fiercely enough for her to feel something give inside her neck. Her scream cut off, and she bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood when her head snapped back and bounced off Nick's chest. Nick stopped, and wheeled to face LaCroix, still holding her arms tightly enough to numb them. He growled softly behind her and pushed her forward a few inches, hands clamped on her upper arms like manacles. The low growl in her ear softened, becoming an affectionate croon, an invitation to the other vampire. _Calling him to share dinner_ The thought flashed through her mind.

Nick held her out, offering first taste of this shared treat to his master, who approached smiling and soft-footed, eyes glowing a faint fire-tinged amber, an eager growl vibrating in his throat. Dazed and half-unconscious, Natalie struggled to draw a deep enough breath for another cry for help. She felt Nick's cold tongue on her neck, heard him inhale deeply, drinking in her scent. Her scream came out as a choked-off sob.

LaCroix reached out and ripped the front of her blouse away. His lips drew back and he displayed his killing fangs, long and sharp enough to plunge effortlessly into her jugular. The reflected streetlight struck the strong planes of his face as he tilted his head back, teeth gleaming, eyes half-shut, pausing to savor a moment of anticipation before he closed in on this delicacy. The points of Nick's teeth rested lightly against the back of her neck, his cold breath harsh against her spine. Natalie closed her eyes and gave up, praying that it would be over quickly. Twin needles of fire punched through the side of her throat and the back of her neck, and she felt their growls vibrate in her flesh as they both bit deeper, securing a better hold.

****

Natalie woke up, shrieking and thrashing on the floor next to her bed. The crushing grip of her dream resolved itself into a sheet wound tightly around her torso and neck. Panting, she tore herself free of the constricting material. As she finished unwinding the sheet from around her waist, the door flew open and Grace burst into the room, wild-eyed and holding a baseball bat.

"What!! What?!! What's wrong?" she shouted, looking around frantically, adrenaline giving her a death grip on the bat.

Natalie held up her hand, palm toward her, and tried to find her voice. "Grace, no! No, it's okay. It's okay, I had a nightmare, nobody's here."

Panting, Grace lowered the weapon in increments, shaking and staring at her. As she sat down on the bed, the bat hit the floor with a clunk and rolled under the bed. "Jesus, woman. That must have been some fucking dream."

"Oh, yes," Natalie said, her voice thick, looking down at her shaking hands. "It fucking was." After a few long minutes of silence, she looked up into her friend's worried eyes and reached out to take hold of the other woman's hand.

"Pack your bags and get the road atlas out, Grace. You and I are calling in sick tomorrow."


End file.
